


All She Wants Is

by Darby_Harper



Category: Rammstein
Genre: F/M, Friends With Benefits, Vampire Sex, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-19
Updated: 2016-06-19
Packaged: 2018-07-15 23:01:08
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7242334
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Darby_Harper/pseuds/Darby_Harper
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All she wants is...more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All She Wants Is

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: _**Any similarity between the fictional version of the person portrayed here and the actual person is purely coincidental. This is a work of fiction. This is not an attempt to defame the character of said person on the basis of libel, as the work is FICTIONAL (and NOT an intently false statement created with the express purpose of misleading others about the actual character of said person). All rights reserved**_

:::

The stuffy air of the bar was so thick you could almost cut pieces of it out with a knife. Heavy with perfume, perspiration and the occasional whiffs of tobacco and weed, it made sweat break out on the foreheads of even the people standing at the open door to the bar. The local band on the tiny stage at the back of the building was thrashing their way through an interesting version of “Love Me Do,” their black clothing, studs, spikes and fluorescent hair as far away from Liverpool as the Earth was to the Moon.

Richard Kruspe was occupying one of the few corner tables, back snugged into the corner, watching the crowd over the rim of his glass of vodka. Indigo and grey eyes, ringed with black eyeliner that was artistically smudged, flickered over faces, bodies, never staying in one place for longer than a few heartbeats. His jet black hair was in its usual studied disarray, a few pieces falling forward to slash across black eyebrows. The hand that wasn't holding the glass was resting idly on the tabletop, fingers tapping restlessly in a counterpoint to the music. Multi-colored lights winked off of his rings and shimmered in his eyes, points of light in the velvet blackness of the bar. Only a couple of people had approached him since he'd arrived and tonight, he was glad for the relative anonymity. Any other night, he would be up on the dance floor, prowling about like a panther looking for prey, but tonight, he was more comfortable in his corner.

He would have sat there the rest of the night, nursing his glass of vodka, people watching, but out of the corner of his eye, a flash of white that glowed as bright as the sun under the black lights pulled him out of his reverie. Setting the glass down with a hard “thunk,” Richard found himself staring at a woman in all white, from her ice-pale hair that was pulled up in a high, thick ponytail, to her skin-tight, low cut tank top to her heavy boots that were wrapped with scarlet laces and thin silver chains. She was all curves, close to his height, and when she turned to face him, her face was one of those that he'd never forget. She had the face that a painter would use as a model for an angel's, wide green eyes that were circled in black, and lips that looked as if someone had melted a ruby down to make lip paint for her. The lights sparkled off her lip, nose and ear piercings; when their eyes met, she smiled at Richard. The sheer hunger and lust in her smile literally pulled him out of his seat and over to her side. Once he was close enough to speak in her ear without screaming, he purred in her ear, “Hey there. Can I dance with you?”

The woman turned to look over her shoulder at Richard and nodded, that tempting smile still on her ruby-red lips. “Absolutely. And thank you for being kind and asking first. Too many little...boys... today think a woman dancing by herself is fair game for some grope and tickle.”

Richard snort-laughed and held out his hand for the woman to take. Her grip was cool and slightly damp, nothing like he'd expected. She shook it and let him pull her closer, saying, “My name's Morgan. Well, Morgaine, but that's a bit too fancy for me. And you are...?”

Richard lifted the hand he was holding and kissed the back of it. “Richard Kruspe. Or Richard ZK, or Reesh. Whatever you prefer, _Frau_ Morgan.”

Morgan slid her other arm around his waist and pulled Richard closer. “I think I like Reesh the best. What brings you here? Visiting? Business?”

“Business of a sort,” Richard replied, swinging her around and into one of the few empty spots on the dance floor where they had some breathing room. “I'm here with my band for a concert tomorrow night. I take it you've never heard of Rammstein?”

Morgan made an embarrassed face and looked away. “I knew you were one of the guys from Rammstein but I had no real idea who. I was going to put my bet on...Schneider? Paul? But I figured I'd embarrass myself if I said anything. I have a memory like a sieve.”

Richard choked back a laugh at her blush and the rueful tone in her voice. “Oh, don't worry about that. Some days I can't remember who I am either and I have to look at my passport to figure it out. And I'm sure Schneider and Paul would both be flattered to be compared to someone as pretty as I am.”

“Not conceited at all, are you?” teased Morgan, gently tapping Richard on the chest with a hand tipped with short, sky blue-painted nails. He grinned in return, feeling the warm rush of attraction flooding his veins. He could tell by the way Morgan's pupils were dilated, by the way she gradually let him come closer to her, that she was just as interested in him as he was in her. They danced for awhile longer, then when the band called for a break, he lead her back to his table, catching the attention of a passing waitress and ordering them both something to drink. Morgan protested, saying she had an open tab and was perfectly capable of ordering her own drink; Richard turned the charm on, smiled dirtily at her and said, “You buy the next one, then, sweetheart.”

“You're horrible.”

“And _you_ like it.”

“Damn it, I thought I was hiding it better than that. Okay, pretty boy, the next round's on me,” Morgan replied with a hint of a snap in her voice. Richard pulled away slightly then nodded, acknowledging that he'd stepped out of line with Morgan just a tad and that he was sorry. She returned the nod, softening the rebuke with a tiny smile, then slid into the chair he held out for her, cat-like graceful in every move. Richard couldn't help but stare; any other woman by this point would have become fawning and stupid or have slapped him for ogling her. Morgan simply took his admiration as if she was a queen, knowing she was beautiful and how she affected him.

Once the waitress had brought their drinks, Richard eased back into his chair, shot glass held loosely in the fingers of his right hand, half-admiring the way the house lights winked off of the heavy rings he wore on his fourth finger and pinky. Morgan held out her hand, saying, “May I see them? Those look like if you hit someone you'd do them serious damage.” Richard slid the rings off and gently laid them in Morgan's cupped hands; she lifted the ring with the Emigrate logo on it and rubbed a fingertip over the edges with a wince. “Definitely a concealed weapon,” she commented, handing it back to him and examining the other. It was a band made from polished, stainless steel; a strip of brass floated inside a channel carved in the metal that spun around when moved and was carved with Celtic knotwork. Richard nodded at the ring and said, “That's from Paul. He has one like it; gave it to me when the band celebrated twenty years together. Calls it our 'promise ring.' If you look inside it, he even got it inscribed with “Love always, Paulchen.”

“No wonder people write slash fiction about you two!” Morgan said, handing the ring back. “I mean, anyone would look at that and say yep, they're lovers.” Richard shook his head with a slight smile as he put his rings back on, saying, “We love each other but not like _that_. Besides, his wife wouldn't share him with me for all the money in the world, and I'm a jealous bitch when I'm in the mood to be.”

The evening went by too quickly for Richard; he sat listening to Morgan talk about everything and nothing, entranced by her low, almost accent-free voice, mesmerized by her eyes and the way she talked with her hands. She kept him on his toes with the occasional double entendre, teasing remark, or touch on his knee or wrist, asking him questions about his life as a professional musician, his music, and to his surprise, being honestly interested in his guitars and the rigs he used. She seemed to know a good bit about guitars, amplifiers, and so on, and what she didn't know she wasn't afraid to ask about. There were few fans who were as knowledgeable about music, guitars and his work outside Rammstein, and female fans who were like Morgan were even more rare.

Neither of them noticed that the crowd was thinning and the main lights in the club coming up to almost full brightness startled them. One of the bartenders reached up with a long-handled wooden spoon and pounded on a thick piece of iron that was welded to a girder near the cash register. “Last call, everyone!” the man yelled, dropping the spoon into a nearby empty glass and heading for the side of the bar where the last hard-core partiers were gathering for a final drink. Richard glanced over at Morgan, who was staring at the crowd with an expression he'd call hungry, desperate, predatory and for a moment he was terrified of her. When she turned back, the look was gone, replaced by a sweet smile.

“Well, that seems to be our signal to fish or cut bait,” she said, snickering at Richard's puzzled look at what she said. “It means do something or don't,” she explained. “I figured you'd heard that since you lived here in the States for so long.”

“Can't say that I did,” he replied, unwinding himself from his seat and offering Morgan a hand up. She took it and slowly got to her feet, groaning as she stood. “God, I'm tired. I'm not used to sitting still for so long and damn, it tires you out.” Digging in the pocket of her snow-white pants, she extracted several bills and catching their waitress, folded the money into her hand with a murmured, “Keep the change, sweetie.” Richard waited for Morgan to turn to walk away before adding his own contribution and giving the startled waitress a quick kiss on the cheek. “Thanks, Richard, and thank your lady friend for me,” she whispered, winking at him as he hurried to catch up with Morgan. The brisk wind from outside half-blew the door out of her hands and he ran to grab it and was surprised to see her catch it easily and push it open. When he'd arrived, the bouncer at the door, who could have given Till a run for his money in size and build, had struggled somewhat with the heavy door; Morgan had barely a hair out of place.

“Do you want to hit another bar, maybe go somewhere for a quick bite?” she said once they were outside and standing on the street. The nighttime air was cool, almost cold after the heat and humidity of the club and Richard shivered, rubbing his hands up and down his bare arms. He'd worn a pair of black jeans, boots and a short-sleeved t-shirt, forgoing a jacket as the night had been warm but now he wished he hadn't. Morgan slipped her arm around his waist and began walking up the street, saying, “There's a lovely little twenty four hour coffee shop up the street. Let's stop there and get you warmed up a bit. Your pretty nose is turning blue!”

 _It's not just my nose that's turning blue,_ Richard thought to himself. _My ass is freezing off and my toes aren't much better! How in the world is she standing there in a tank top and not even shivering, and I'm turning into an ice cube?_ Thankfully Morgan kept up a brisk walk all the way to the coffee shop and once inside, Richard sighed happily at the warm, coffee and sugar scented breeze that welcomed them at the door. Morgan led him to a booth far away from the door, ordering coffee for both of them from one of the waiters as they passed the lunch counter.

They hadn't been seated more than a couple of minutes when the coffee arrived, black as night and hot as fire, and a couple of menus laid at the edge of the table. “Take your time,” the young man who'd taken Morgan's order said with a smile. He dusted icing sugar from the front of his grey polo shirt ruefully, saying, “We're pretty slow tonight. My name's Mike, by the way. I'll be over at the grill, just wave at me when you're ready. Oh, and free refills on the coffee. You look like you need it.”

Richard managed to say “Thank you,” through chattering teeth, carefully taking a sip of the hot, pungent brew. Its warmth sped through him from head to toe and he took a deep breath, cupping his hands around the mug to feel the heat from the coffee making its way through his cold fingers. Morgan had added a dollop of cream from a stoneware pitcher that was nestled into a tiny bowl full of crushed ice before taking her first sip; she closed her eyes and all but purred.

“Nothing like good coffee when you're frozen to the bone,” she said softly, opening her eyes and quirking an eyebrow at Richard's half-lidded glance. “You gonna live, Reesh?”

“Now that I can feel my toes, I might,” he replied, picking up one of the menus and flipping through the grease-smudged, ragged-edged menu. “And before you argue, this is on me.”

“Never argue with a man who's not only smart but can drink coffee so hot I think you could melt glass in it,” Morgan replied with a giggle. “Everything here is good. I've stopped here a couple times on my way home from the club and I've never been disappointed.” They perused their menus for several moments, and when their waiter, Mike, returned, they'd decided on double chocolate chip waffles with ice cream, while Richard also ordered a serving of bacon and scrambled eggs with cheese. Their food arrived quickly with refills of coffee for Richard and a glass of soda for Morgan, who said that more than one cup of coffee and she'd be up all night.

“You never said what you do for a living,” Richard asked after they'd been eating for a while. Morgan held her finger up in a gesture for him to wait a second while she washed down a mouthful of waffle with a drink of soda. “I'm a phlebotomist,” she said. When he tipped his head to the side, puzzled, Morgan explained, “They call us vampires in the hospital. I go around, take people's blood and run tests on it. Nothing glamorous.”

“Why vampires...oh, never mind, I'm being stupid,” Richard replied, gently smacking himself on the forehead. “I swear, Morgan, I'm not usually this dim.”

“Didn't think you were,” she replied. “You're running on fumes. I hope you're not breaking some kind of curfew, because you look all done in.”

Richard nibbled at his bacon, eyes fixed on the salt and pepper shakers in their rack. He idly tapped a knuckle on the metal rack, saying, “I'm so _, so_ dead tired. This tour is kicking all our asses, we've been passing a cold around and Till burnt himself pretty good on one of the pyro stunts a couple days ago. He's fine when he's on stage but when he's not, I'm the only person that can be around him without him biting my head off. Hell, I'm the only person he'll let take care of him when he gets hurt like this. So I worry about him, I worry about the show and a thousand other things, none of which is conducive to sleeping more than an hour or so at a time.”

Morgan slowly reached across the table and laid her hand on top of Richard's. “It's okay. You can tell me everything or nothing. I'm a very good listener.”

And he did. As they slowly ate their food, Richard told Morgan of everything that came into his head, from his worries about the tour, to missing his daughter, and everything in between. Morgan said little, save for an occasional comment to keep him talking. Before he realized it, it was nearly three in the morning; he and Morgan, plus a couple of people in the kitchen, were the only people left in the restaurant. He blinked, set his now-empty coffee cup down and said, “How long have we been sitting here? Have I yammered at you the entire time? I'm sorry!”

Morgan smiled and patted Richard's hand. “We've been here a few hours. And don't apologize for talking so much, you needed to get all that off your chest. We all need to blow off some steam.”

“Still...I don't unload on people I barely know,” he replied with a wry twist to his mouth. “No matter what people think.”

Morgan sighed and slid out of the booth with Richard hot on her heels. She said nothing else until they were standing on the street; she leaned against the brick doorway of the restaurant, fixed him with a glance he couldn't break and said, “If I'd have minded, I'd have said something. Honestly. You're interesting to talk to, you're funny and I quite like you.”

Richard blushed, finally able to look away from Morgan's intense, emerald green-eyed stare. “Thanks,” he said quietly, tucking his hands into his pockets. As he looked up again, he found himself leaning into Morgan, hypnotized by her scent, her eyes and something mysterious that he couldn't express. She stepped closer, a slight smile on her lips, and before either of them could realize what was happening, they kissed. It was a shy brush of the lips, nothing grand, but it left both of them stunned.

“Uh...I'm...I'm sorry,” Richard stammered, trying to back up but finding his hands caught in Morgan's cool, soft ones. “I didn't mean to...”

“I did,” Morgan replied, pulling him to her and this time, the kiss they shared was hot, electric and nothing short of needy. Her fingers snaked up into Richard's hair, holding him close, while he clung to her, arms wrapped around her slender, muscular waist. Morgan nipped at his lower lip until it was swollen and red, making Richard hiss but not pull away. They stumbled backwards until Richard's shoulder crashed into a lamp post; they broke apart, laughing and red-faced. “I guess this is the point where I should ask if you'd like me to walk you home?” he said, scrubbing at his cheeks to try and force the blush that was creeping up his cheeks back down.

“I'm a modern woman, maybe I should be asking _you_ that question!” Morgan teased, pushing her platinum hair out of her face. “I can't stay up too late, I've got to be in bed before the sun comes up or I'll be too tired to go to work tomorrow night.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Richard purred, leaning in for another kiss. “I'll have you home before your coach turns back into a pumpkin and the horses back into mice.”

Richard's hotel was only a couple blocks north of the restaurant; as it was a lovely, albeit cool night, he and Morgan hurried up the street, laughing softly and sharing teasing glances as they went. It took no time at all for them to steal into the hotel and onto the elevator, where Richard pushed Morgan up and into the wall, kissing her with everything he had. She responded just as eagerly, moaning softly into his mouth, clawing at Richard's back with suddenly sharp, hard nails. Only the bright “ding!” of the elevator's bell announcing the floor kept them from ripping each other's clothes off and screwing right there on the carpeted floor.

“Richard...Reesh, hold on,” Morgan gasped, clinging to Richard's arms. “Not here, not in the middle of the hallway!”

“Why not? I've fucked in more public places,” he giggled, swinging her up into his arms and jogging down the hallway. Morgan bit back a shriek of surprise and buried her face in his shoulder, her own giggles sounding like tiny chimes in the stillness of the hotel hallway. The lights were dimmed down to a comfortable level, and for a moment when Richard looked into her face, he would have sworn he saw the dim lights flash off a set of canines that a wolf would envy. Shaking his head at his whimsy and managing to keep Morgan in his arms, Richard wriggled his key card from the pocket of his jeans and swiped it through the reader and bumped the door open.

“Very smooth, Richard, very smooth,” Morgan teased, resting her head on his shoulder as he carried her into the room and gently deposited her on the bed. Morgan sat up and unlaced her heavy boots, letting them hit the floor with a soft 'thud.' Richard picked one up, eyebrows rising when he felt how heavy they were. “I thought I wore heavy boots! How in the world do you walk in those?”

“Oh, I'm used to them,” Morgan replied. “But we weren't talking about boots, were we?”

“No, we weren't,” Richard said, leaning over to kiss Morgan, slowly pushing her down onto the soft bed. He could feel her shivering, whether from being nervous or hunger, he wasn't sure. Pulling back, he whispered, “We don't have to do this, _liebling_. I won't push you.”

“I want you,” Morgan sighed, pulling Richard's t-shirt out of his pants and dancing her fingers up his spine once she threw the shirt across the room. “If _you_ don't want to do this, we don't have to.”

His reply was another deep, hard kiss while he carefully wriggled around and got Morgan's legs wrapped around his waist, resting his pelvis against hers. She sighed and pressed up into him, purring with delight, and helped him slide her shirt off, followed by her (lucky for him) front-hook bra. Richard kissed his way down from her chin, licking and nibbling, breathing Morgan's sweet, green tea and spice perfume. Her skin was almost porcelain white, without a freckle or blemish, and when he got to her rose pink nipples, he smiled at the tiny, pearl-ended nipple bars that winked against her skin.

“Did getting those hurt?” he asked, delicately licking at the very tip of her left nipple and watching the pink bud swell and stand up more from the surrounding flesh.

“Only a bit. I like pain, a little bit,” Morgan murmured. “But what you're doing, that feels _wonderful_.”

“Any place else you have pieced that I should know about?”

“Only my belly button. I haven't gotten up the nerve to go below the waist,” Morgan replied, smacking Richard on the behind gently. “Enough talking, Kruspe, and more kissing.”

“Ow! I hear and obey!” Richard snort-laughed, pulling away from her long enough to strip down to his underwear and for Morgan to do the same. He caught his breath at the sight of the pale pink thong she wore, the color almost shocking against her flesh. Morgan gazed up at Richard through her dark eyelashes and said, “Are you all right?”

“You're...I'm not...I'm...you're so gorgeous,” Richard stammered. There was something about Morgan, something he'd never encountered before, that took his breath away. He'd been with hundreds of women during his life of every body type, skin color, ethnicity, but Morgan was alike to them as a piece of costume jewelry was to the Crown Jewels. She stroked his face, kissed his nose and whispered, “Thank you, Reesh. You're not half bad yourself.”

After that, words became useless. Morgan had Richard out of his underwear faster than he could blink, pinning him to the bed and latching her lips to his. He struggled at first, startled, then relaxed when he felt Morgan straddle his left thigh and begin to delicately rub her wet heat against his skin. He let her hold him down, breaths soft and full of whimpers as she pleasured herself.

“Hang on a second,” Richard wheezed, brain in overload. “I need...we need...”

“No, we don't,” Morgan purred, sliding her hand between them and palming his swelling member. “Trust me, we don't need anything.” Any other time Richard would have protested but there was something in her voice that made any objection die before he could think of doing so. Shaking under her touch, Richard clung to Morgan, babbling in a hoarse voice, in both German and English for her to fuck him, ride him till he couldn't move, even her name. She laughed and licked a wet line down his neck, biting tiny nips over the pale skin.

“I need you, Reesh,” Morgan sighed in his ear. “I want you on top, I need you to hold me down and fuck me till I scream. Please, Reesh, please...”

He needed no further urging; Richard pushed himself upward, rolling them over on the bed and pinning Morgan beneath him. She started struggling, hissing like an angry cat, green eyes furious and electric. An urge older than time drove him to shove her legs apart and plunge into her heat, ripping a shriek out of both of them that sounded more animal than human. He took her hard and fast, gauging how close Morgan was to her end, and when she seemed a moment away, he slowed down, then stopped. Smiling an evil, slow smile, he slid free of her, even though every instinct screamed for him to stay inside, to spill his seed inside her, to make her his mate. “You...you...you little shit!” Morgan hissed. Richard laughed, and kissed her nose, saying, “You said fuck you till you scream. Well, pretty baby, you haven't screamed... yet.”

And with that, he plunged back into her, wringing a scream from Morgan that made his ears ring. He winced away, stunned by the sound, but before he could say anything, she made a sound that reminded him of a cat's growl and sank her teeth deep into his neck. Richard tried to speak, tried to fling himself away from the beast-woman who lay underneath him, but the seconds of excruciating pain suddenly became overwhelming pleasure. Pleasure that dragged him under, pleasure that turned his vision black around the edges, pleasure that tore an orgasm out of him that came close to stopping his heart. He barely felt Morgan's suckling at his throat, barely registered her own orgasm. All Richard knew was there was such a thing as the _petit mort_ , and he was more than eager to fall into its embrace, and then into darkness.

:::

“Richard.”

“Reesh, wake up. Come on, pretty-pretty, open your eyes.”

Prying open bleary eyes, Richard found himself nose-to-nose with Morgan, whose pale skin was flushed a pretty pink, eyes warm and sleepy...and whose ivory fangs glinted on the soft red of her lips. He yelled, shoving her aside, and tried to jump off the bed, only to find that he had absolutely no strength left. Scared witless, he lay still, waiting for Morgan to finish him off, mind racing uselessly.

“You...you're a fucking vampire!” he finally manged to blurt out.

“I am,” Morgan replied softly, looking away. “I didn't mean to hurt you, but I was starving. You'll be all right in a couple of hours; I didn't take that much from you.”

Richard's voice cracked as he stammered, “Didn't take _that_ much? As compared to what?”

“As compared to draining you completely,” Morgan sighed, sitting down on the unused bed. “I've got more control than that, but like I said, I was hungry. I can eat normal food but once or twice a month, I have to have blood. I usually take care of that at work, but...I'm sorry. I should have asked.”

As Morgan talked, Richard managed to wriggle into a sitting position, leaning heavily on one arm and watching the hand of his other hand shake like a leaf in a high wind. He felt like he'd been on a three day bender, followed by running a marathon in subtropical humidity. He shot an angry glance at Morgan and said, “You'd better thank whatever god you believe in, if you do, that I don't have anything going on until tonight. If I showed up looking like this...if I could show up at all!”

“I said I'm sorry, all right?” Morgan snapped. “And if you needed the strength, I'd be able to give it to you, but only once.”

“Huh? How? Feed me your blood?”

“Yes. A human being can take my blood once and not get sick or die. Twice, and you'd probably be very sick. Three times and you'd die, and probably come back as a revenant. I've met a couple of those in my lifetime and I've had to put them down. That's where the idea of the zombie came from, at least in Europe,” Morgan explained, pulling her hair back from her face and twisting it into a loose bun at the back of her neck. “Contrary to legend, myth, fiction, almost all vampires are born, just like humans are. We can't make another vampire through a bite, you have to be born a vampire.”

Despite being terrified, Richard laid down on his side, facing Morgan, snuggling a pillow under his head, too tired to sit up much longer. “Did you show up in that bar hunting for your dinner?” he asked. “Or was I in the wrong place at the right time?”

“That's one of my favorite places to go dance and blow off steam, it's not a hunting ground,” Morgan replied. “I've had a couple of days off work and I wanted to have fun before I went back. I wasn't hunting you, honestly.”

Richard lay quiet, staring at the carpet under Morgan's bare feet, noting with an inward, hysterical giggle, that her toenails matched her fingernails. The original exhaustion and cold he'd felt upon awakening was fading, replaced by a gnawing ache in his stomach that told him that it wanted feeding, and soon. When it growled loudly, Morgan snickered and reaching behind her, handed him a thick bar of chocolate. “Eat that and I'll see if I can't find you a soda or two. You need the sugar more than anything right now, but I'd suggest you eat a burger for lunch, even dinner. Oh...you're not a vegetarian, are you? Because that could be a problem.”

Richard broke off a square of chocolate and all but moaned as the rich, semi-sweet flavor hit his taste buds. He forced himself to break only another square off, handing it to Morgan, saying, “Better get that away from me for now. I might need it but I get the feeling if I gorge on it, I'm going to be sorry.”

“I'll get you a soda and I'll be back in a moment,” Morgan replied, laying the candy on the bedside table and rising up from the bed in one graceful move. “Please, Richard, please believe me. I didn't mean to hurt you, I wasn't hunting you. I was...I was lonely.” She was gone before he even realized she'd moved, and he found himself gazing at the door, wishing he had said more, or less. Rolling onto his back and throwing one arm over his eyes, Richard groaned and muttered, “Out of all the women in the known universe, _you_ have to find the one vampire and sleep with her.”

The next thing he knew, Morgan was shaking his shoulder and saying softly, “Here's your soda, Reesh. I can't stay much longer, it's going to be morning soon and I don't want to be here when the sun comes up.”

“Huh? Wha...Morgan? What time is it?” Richard said, staring up at Morgan through sleep-sanded eyes. “Will you go 'poof' if the sunlight gets you?”

“No, not exactly,” she replied, sitting down on the bed next to him. “I don't like being out in the sunlight too much, it hurts a lot, and I burn easily. I can be out a lot more on cloudy days and during the winter, though. No, I have to go to work tonight and I'm really busy, so I can't afford to be tired.”

“Please stay. I can make sure you get home or whatever before I have to go to sound check,” Richard replied, slowly pulling Morgan down to him and kissing her shoulder. “I've got so many questions and...well, if you try not to bite me, I'd be more than glad to make you scream again.”

The tears in Morgan's eyes made them huge; she smiled at Richard, a full, wide smile that showed off her fangs. His heart jumped, but settled quickly as the idea of being a vampire's one night stand quickened through his veins. “How...how old are you?” he asked as Morgan got comfortable, resting her head on his chest.

“I'm your age. I'll probably live into my two hundreds; my mother was close to two hundred sixty when she died. Most vampires will themselves to die, especially if they start wanting to hunt humans all the time or go senile. The ones that go rogue, our society takes care of. We're good at changing names, homes, whatever, to stay ahead of things. I can always lay on the makeup and wigs if I stay here till I'm older, just so people don't talk,” she said. “Of course, with the way society is with people trying everything under the sun to stay young and pretty, I might not have to worry, much.”

“I can't believe this. You mean, vampires have existed with humans and we didn't know?” Richard said, reaching around behind Morgan to pull the blankets up over them. He'd noticed that she'd shed her jeans again and was in her top and underwear, he was still naked and getting chilly. Wrapped in a cocoon of warmth and ease, he listened to Morgan telling him her story; from her childhood in a small town, from her awakening vampire self as a very young child, on to her existence as a vampire. She was lonely, for most vampires were solitary creatures, although there was one younger vampire that worked in the hospital that she did, only in the Emergency Room. She liked him, he liked her, but the need to be on her own was too strong right now for anything to happen.

“As long as there have been humans, there have been vampires,” Morgan finally told him. “No one knows where we came from, if we're some kind of weird mutation. Maybe someday one of my kind will become a scientist and we'll know. It's an okay lifestyle but that twice a month need for blood can kind of be a bummer. Especially when you have to sneak a pint or two from the blood bank like I do.”

“No willing donors?” Richard murmured, nuzzling her soft hair. “Nobody to trade a night's worth of mind-blowing sex for a pint of blood?”

“No,” Morgan replied, a sigh full of regret ghosting past Richard's shoulder. “I've always used second-hand blood. The boy I lost my virginity to was the only person I've bitten who volunteered, and even then it was because he was a virgin too and was afraid he'd be made fun of if he didn't lose his virginity before he went to college. Therefore, you are my first human...er...donor. Even if you didn't volunteer.”

“I'm volunteering, then,” Richard replied, kissing the top of her head and slowly moving his hand from her hip underneath her shirt. “Just...try not to bite so hard, if you're gonna.”

“You're serious.”

“Well, yeah. Like I said, don't bite so hard this time if you're gonna, because makeup only can do so much,” Richard replied, easing Morgan's shirt off and sending it flying. “And because I'm so, so tired, you get to be on top.”

“Such a generous soul you are, Richard Zven Kruspe. I won't bite...that hard this time. And if you're good at convincing me, I might just call off work to see your lovely face up on that stage to...oh God, Reesh, please do that _again_...”

:::

Richard sat on the edge of the stage, guitar lying forgotten in his lap, as he watched the sound crew doing their last minute checks before the band started sound check. He'd been several minutes late which had brought the wrath of the band's tour manager down on his head, along with Till's, but it was worth it. He'd left Morgan napping safely away in his bed, an all-access pass and ticket for the show that night tucked in her hand, and feeling only slightly wobbly after scarfing down a hamburger with all the fixings that would have made Till look twice. He would have sat on that stage till the world ended, lost in heated memories, had Paul not come up and booted him gently in the shoulder.

“You in there Reesh? Damn, boy, what pretty thing gave you that hickey?” Paul teased, sitting down next to him. “You didn't show up for breakfast, didn't answer your phone or your text messages, and then you show up here looking like a vampire took a bite out of you! Share with the class, _Herr_ Kruspe, or I'll nag you till you do!”

“You wouldn't believe it if I told you,” Richard replied, dragging his attention back to the present. “I'm not kissing and telling, not with this one.”

“Ah. A _lady_. I see,” Paul snort-laughed, poking Richard in the ribs until he giggled and shoved him away. “I'm serious, Paul. Maybe some other time, yeah? Come on, we've got shit to do and I've already gotten my ass chewed out by Till once today, I'm not adding a second one.”

Paul said nothing, simply sighed and held a hand out to help Richard up on his feet. As he was pulling Richard up, he took a better look at what seemed to be a hickey on his friend's neck, and saw that not only was the bruised place much larger than he thought, thanks to the makeup on his neck, but there were two small pinpricks at the center. Startled, he almost let go of Richard's hand but managed to keep his composure, but the rest of the night he kept a close watch on him, wondering what Richard had been up to.

That night on the bus to their next show, Richard was curled up in his bunk, almost asleep, when his phone chimed. He tapped the message open and found himself smiling.

“ _Can't find words to tell you how much fun the show was. If you're in the area or nearby, you have my number and e-mail. And if you ever figure out how to apologize to Till for those thirty minutes he's missing, let me know. I won't need to worry about raiding the blood bank this month. He was delicious, but not as much as you.”_

“Yeah, don't think he's gonna believe a bug bite left that kind of mark...” Richard snickered to himself as he wrapped up in his blankets and fell asleep.

Across the aisle, Till muttered in his sleep and smacked at a slightly bruised place on his neck, wincing in his dreams when he hit the tiny puncture marks at the center. Rolling over, he buried his face into the pillow, waking only for a moment to scratch and swear quietly at huge American bugs before falling asleep again.

 

**Author's Note:**

> For my sister-kin, who has given me back my muse and my fighting spirit.


End file.
